


A Matter of Trust

by matrix_is_reloaded



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrix_is_reloaded/pseuds/matrix_is_reloaded
Summary: A wave of memories of it washes over him as he gazes at the painting. Perhaps if she had been more honest with him, their story would have been completely different.
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Kudos: 11





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Вопрос Доверия](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/760728) by Kaya Matrix Holmes (me). 



> This series has left a huge mark on my heart. I can't convey the emotions that I was feeling while watching it, but I will say that I fell in love with the story completely.  
> I'm happy with the way the show was finished. Therefore, the work is more an answer to the question "What if...?" than a disagreement with the canon.
> 
> ALSO English is not my native language! I translated my Russian fanfic. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE If you notice a mistake, tell me about it!
> 
> Enjoy!

He sits on his knees and prays. His eyes fixed on the painting. The evening prayer was a kind of ritual which had become a habit during his years of service in the church. Without it he couldn't calmly surrender himself to sleep.

The priest prayed for peace on Earth, for the health of his relatives with whom he wasn't so close, for the happiness that surrounded the people around him. And _**for her**_. For a girl whose image has settled in the man's thoughts. For the one with the short hair, with the bright, sincere smile and with the strange glance at nowhere that suddenly appeared on her face during their conversation and which she never gave an explanation. He thought... No, he was sure that there were many secrets that she had not told him. Many secrets that she had hidden. Something had happened in her life. Something terrible that she was afraid to tell him. Even her name was unknown to him.

**_Fleabag._ **

**'Fleabag'** he thought, as he finished his prayer, and stood up from his knees **'what have this girl done to make this nickname stick to her?'** Unfortunately, he doesn't have the answers to that question, or to any of the other questions he'd had with her.

His gaze was suddenly caught by a painting that had fallen on the girl's first visit.

 **'Why do they fall?'** the man thought again. **'Why do they fall when she's here? Is she a Messenger of Darkness, or is He just jealous of her?'** The priest turned away. His heart suddenly ached with longing. He missed her.

The ban on coming to church was given to the girl, so as not to provoke himself once again. The man couldn't afford another weakness. He made his choice.

With these thoughts, the Priest opened the cabinet and took out a jar of gin-tonic. It awakened in him another batch of painful but beautiful memories. Once again, his gaze fell on the painting. He lacked the presence of Fleabag, their night conversations, her jokes. If they couldn't be together, she was his friend first and foremost. A friend he'd tried to help so hard. And it had broken the hearts of both of them.

A fox ran under the window. And then he heard the raindrops.

***

The cafe which theme was guinea pigs had fifteen people. About the same number were sitting on the street. People have been talking and not not stopped. It seemed to the girl that after three hours the conversation at least at one table should have come to naught. But the visitors constantly found new topics for discussion. **No wonder** , she thought, turning to us, **it's a Chatty Wednesday.** **Therefore, you can not even dream of silence.** She smiled proudly.

Her cafe has gone through a lot of hard times, and if not for the bank manager who saved her, the story of the young girl and the cafe could have ended. The smell of success and cinnamon rolls surrounded the Fleabag now.

"Good afternoon," a man's voice says, and the girl's face breaks into a smile.  
**'You are probably wondering why I'm so happy? '** she asks us again. **'Because of this gentleman who saved my cafe a year ago, and now he has got a part-time job here.'**

"Hey," he meets Fleabag. "Despite the fact that today is not your day at work and I don't have a clue why you're here, I'm still happy to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too," the man says.

**'Oh, no, he lowered his head and lifted his shoulders slightly. Something terrible is about to happen, you'll see!'**

Silence fell between them. The girl looked expectantly at the man as he continued to stare at the floor. No one dared to break the silence. Although today is A Chatty Wednesday.

"My daughter's birthday is tomorrow," the former bank employee says after a long pause."May we switch shifts?"

**'Just? And I was already afraid that he was going to quit.'**

"Yes, no problem!" she says, still smiling broadly, "I'll work for you tomorrow."

"Thank you," he modestly nods and, turning, left the cafe. Only at the very exit wishes the girl a good day.

**'We'll have to reschedule the appointment for a manicure. Not cool.'**

***

Another trip to the city at Pam's request. The man does not notice how his feet lead him to the **_that_** cafe which theme was guinea pigs. Another batch of nostalgic memories covers his head. **'It's Thursday, she's not here,'** the man thought and surprised his own thoughts. The moment when he had memorized her shift schedule didn't stay in his memory. His eyes fell on the closed sign. It was getting dark.

 **'I just wanted to help you,'** the man thought. **'If you hadn't pushed me away, things might be different"** He closed his eyes. In front of him was scared face of Fleabag. She didn't say what happened to her friend. Why? The question remained unanswered.

Like a bolt from the blue, a girl with a short haircut and a glance to nowhere appears and almost knocks him down.

"Oh, my God!" The man says, barely able to stay on his feet, while holding the cause of the disaster in his arms. He didn't have time to figure out how it happened.

"Excuse me... what are you doing here?" Fleabag looks surprised at the Priest. "Can you let me go?"

The man immediately unclenches his hands, releasing the girl from his embrace, and blushes. **It seems like you try to avoid provocations, but as a result you run to them yourself,'** the priest covers his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry, I just ... I thought…"

"You told me not to come to your church," she says, and he nods in agreement. "But you still come to my cafe?"

"I was thinking of having a snack, and it was the closest-" the man lies.

 **'Here we go again! Every time I see her, all my efforts go down the drain, and my faith fails! He won't forgive me either,'** the Priest wearily rubbing his temples.

"Who were you talking to?" Fleabag stares at him.

"What?"

"Who were you talking to?"

"When?"

"Right now."

'I didn't say anything."

"You did."

"No!" priest says.

"Yes"

"Why do you think so?"

"Because you said: "Every time I see her up all my efforts go down the drain and my faith collapses"."

"What the..."

Girl smiles. It seems like it's too easy to pick up some habits.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

Fleabag was silent. She has a huge desire to say something to us, but she knows that he will hear. Just like she'd just heard it. The smile on her face becomes wider.

"You can walk me home," she says, heading for the bus stop.

**'I still have nothing to lose'.**

"Exactly!" she shouts to him.

The priest sighs wearily.

***

He wakes up the next morning in her bed. Completely naked, they lie in each other's arms, surrounded by peace and comfort. The thought of Pam waiting for him in the church comes suddenly and disappears just as quickly. He looks at the girl: he has never seen her so peaceful before.

Fleabag for everyone are associated with noise and merriment, with spontaneous ideas and rash actions. But now the naked girl seems to open a new door for him to the hidden corners of her own world, which he was once able to glimpse.  
A single tear runs down her cheek. The priest runs his thumb over her face gently brushing away the salty drop. She slowly opens her eyes.

"Good morning" he says.

"Good morning" the girl whispers back.

"You are crying, did you dream something?"

Fleabag silent, thinking. She's scared. She is afraid of the memories of her, the pain they cause her, the conversations and judgments they will bring if they suddenly break out of her dreams. Was it possible to tell him? A matter of trust that played a trick on them. She doesn't want to let him go. The pause dragged on.

"My friend..." the girl says softly.

"The one you opened the cafe with?"

"Yes."

He knew that this was the right moment for the this question that had been running through his mind for months.

"What happened to her?"

"She's dead."

The words were given to the girl without much difficulty. She had already said them more than once: with different intonation, in different places, to different people.

"I'm sorry."

"Because of me."

He pulled her closer, stroking her back. Her eyes were watering, but her voice didn't shake. The priest didn't push. It seemed to him that the beginning had already been made. She had told him enough, more than he could have expected.

"I slept with her boyfriend," the girl continued, "and she decided to get back at him. Her name was Boo, and she was the best person in my life. I didn't tell her… She didn't know it was me. Boo wanted to step under the bike's wheels. "I'll just break my finger," she said, "and he'll come to the hospital and regret it." Boo believed that everything would be fine. She didn't think anything would go wrong. Three people were killed in that accident."

"I heard about that," the man says. "I'm sorry".

He pulls her closer to him. Fleabag buries him in the shoulder: emotions get the best of her.

Relief washes over her as the flood of tears ends. She feels good. Really good. The girl feels an inner urge to confess to him, even if last time it did not lead to a happy ending.

"I love you" she says, looking up.

The man is silent. The internal struggle with It does not allow you to make a decision. But why should he fight for the love of one when he can divide it into two?  
Her eyes are filled with fear and hope. Gathering his thoughts, he answers:

"I love you, too."


End file.
